


A Soul & A Summoning

by OhhhCrowley



Series: A Soul And A Summoning [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bobby SInger - Freeform, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, crowley - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-07
Updated: 2014-02-07
Packaged: 2018-01-11 11:05:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1172291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhhhCrowley/pseuds/OhhhCrowley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bobby wants his soul back but Crowley isn't prepared to let it go so easily. Set during 'Weekend at Bobby's'</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Soul & A Summoning

**Author's Note:**

> The world always needs more Crobby, always!  
> I dedicate this to SaunterVaguely, thank you for the invite, for your fanart and for being an excellent ship mate.

 

 

“Couldn’t stop thinking about me, could you?”

Bobby turned from the bowl he’d been using to summon the demon, wrapping his bleeding palm with a scrap of fabric and watching warily as Crowley advanced towards him from the gloom of the kitchen.

“Gotta say, I’m touched.” he smirked, slinking closer to the hunter with a silken swagger, revelling in the thunderous expression he wore. “...I won’t go into _where_ exactly...”

“I didn’ call yer ter play house with me,” Bobby growled, walking around the desk to stand squarely in front of it. _Come on you bastard, just a couple more steps..._

“Shame, I’m really rather good at it,” that smirk again, that bloody lopsided, self-satisfied smile that always appeared when the fiend thought he was being particularly clever. When he knew he was about to get a rise out of his prey. Bobby watched as he took a few more steps forward, straight into the Devil’s Trap he hadn’t realised was there.

“Cut the crap Crowley, I’m not in the mood!”

An exaggerated look of shock crossed the man’s face and he raised a hand to his heart, slumping his shoulders and dipping his head in pretend hurt. Bobby could just make out the curl of his lips and he loathed to admit that his temper was starting to rise. Damn and blast if he didn’t know how to get people’s blood boiling.

“Forgive me Robert,” he said, voice like honey pouring over gravel, “but if I’m not here to go another round in the boudoir then, pray tell, why exactly _did_ you call me?”

“You know what I want, we made a deal.” He stopped to take a liberal swig of whiskey, willing himself to stay calm. “You have somethin’ o’ mine and I damn well want it back.”

Crowley was watching him with a curious expression, head tilted and eyes glinting golden in the candlelight. He licked his lips as Bobby finished up his drink, watching it slide down his throat, eyes moving down his body as though following that fiery liquid. Bobby shook himself, wrenching his eyes away from the demon and cursing at himself for the way that look made him feel.

“My soul, how clear do I have ter make it?”

“Oh you could make it clear as a crystal darling, it wouldn’t make a bit of difference.”

Crowley chuckled to himself at the response that garnered, obviously that was not the response he’d been looking for. Dear God and the Devil, he was easier than playing a fiddle.

“Whaddya mean by that?” Bobby raged, stepping closer to the centre of the room until he was only a few feet from where the shorter man stood. “You promised!”

“Ah, ah, ah...” Crowley murmured, wagging a finger. “Temper, temper! Somebody didn’t read their contract...”

“The contract? You didn’ say nothin’ about the contract!”

“Oops! My bad. Or should I say _your_ bad? Haven’t you realised who you’re dealing with yet?”

Crowley snapped his fingers, watching as a bright glimmer of pain crossed Bobby’s face, quickly replaced by a look of dawning realisation as the contract lit up his body in blood red ink.

“See...” he went on, grinning salaciously, “Here’s the part you’d have done well to read, the bit lighting up your naughty bits just so. I only have to make _best efforts_ to give you back your soul.”

“Best _efforts_?” Bobby’s voice was venomous.

“Yes, as in... ah…” he made a dramatic show of clutching at the soul, attempting to hand it over. “I’d really like to give it back,” he dropped his hands “but I can’t.”

Bobby looked dumbfounded for a moment, turning away so that he didn’t have to see that infernal grin on the demon’s face or watch the way he moved about the floor as though he owned the place.

“So that’s the end of it, is it?” his voice was low, thankfully coming out more controlled than he felt on the inside. He thought he’d always been blessed with a good poker face; it came in handy for situations such as this.

“Afraid it is mate. Now, if we’re quite finished,” Bobby could hear the sharp snap of fingers behind him, the attempted escape, and couldn’t stop the smug look that overcame him. Oh this was gonna be good.

“Am I missing something here?” Crowley’s voice was deceptively calm as the hunter turned to look at him once more, moving until he was close enough that the demon could smell the revolting stench of cheap whiskey on his breath.

“Oh yeah, I’d say so.” Bobby all but whispered, stepping around him and flipping the light switch. “I’ve gotcha now, you son of a bitch. I can make you do anythin’ I want.”

“Is that so?” Crowley countered, taking in the illuminated Devil’s Trap and smiling to himself. He was enjoying watching the man’s face clouding over with anger and confusion. To see somebody go from cocky arrogance to total doubt in a matter of seconds was nothing short of delicious. He could almost taste it, and he wanted more.

Bobby moved back towards him, skirting around the edge of the trap, but he was just a little too close. Crowley reached out like a whip, grabbing a fistful of plaid shirt and hauling Bobby towards him.

“Here to play games are we Robert?”

Bobby felt the push of Crowley’s body against him and tried not to breathe in the rich cologne that seemed to be his signature scent, tried desperately to forget the way he’d noticed it the last time they’d been this close. The aroma seemed to flood his senses in a way that was almost otherworldly, swallowing him up and sending pulses of heat through his body.

Crowley laughed, looking up at him in a way that said he held all the cards, and he knew it.

“Well, well. Looks like I could read that tricky part of the contract for you...” he whispered, his free hand moving downwards to brush against Bobby’s pants and the hardness that had appeared there. “Like it a little rough do you?”

“Shut yer mouth,” the hunter replied, pulling himself forcefully away and walking out of the trap.

“Oh please, look me in the eyes and tell me your mind isn’t just _overflowing_ with all the filthy things you want to do to me.”

“I said SHUT UP!” Bobby roared, taking his knife and scratching a line through the paint.

“Make m-”

Crowley’s taunts were muffled by the press of Bobby’s mouth to his own, strong hands grabbing the lapels of his suit and pushing him backwards towards the kitchen. They didn’t stop moving until the demon was pressed up against the kitchen table, Bobby’s mouth working ravenously over his before burying into his neck, biting just a little harder than was comfortable. Deft fingers made short work of the silk tie that was one of the demons favorites, discarding it before pulling off the blazer and all but ripping the buttons open on the shirt. He really should have been more annoyed about that, Armani and all.

Bobby began working on the pants when he felt fingers ghost across his jaw, sending a jolt through him. He turned his gaze, shocked by the rawness in Crowley’s eyes, the way his breath hitched through parted lips. For a moment it looked as though he might say something, make some biting remark, a cruel joke. Instead he reached up and took hold of the hunter’s hat, pulling it free and throwing it across the room. Then, before Bobby knew what was happening, Crowley’s hands were taking hold of his arms with surprising softness, moving him so that their positions were switched. His eyes glimmered as he eyed the erection that pressed almost obscenely against the hunter’s jeans, and with one movement he had undone the button and fly, pulling them down along with his underwear.

“What are you...” Bobby stammered, eyes watching every move the demon made as he knelt down.

“I said I was going to read it for you,” Crowley whispered, “that is, if you want me to?”

Bobby gulped and nodded, watching those lips moving closer, gasping as they enveloped him.

For a moment he fought the waves of pleasure coursing through him, tried not to look at the way that dark tousled head moved in his lap, or to feel the softness of Crowley’s hair against his fingers even as he reached down to urge him on. He attempted to ride out the shudders that ran through his body at the flick of tongue that seemed to know its way around far too well. Tried not to acknowledge the way Crowley’s hands rested on his lower back, the way they held him steady. Most of all he tried not to give in to the fact that this felt good, damnit, more than good. He bit his lip to hold back the groans that seemed to rise up unbidden in his throat and wrestled the urge to thrust into that mouth.

Crowley seemed to sense his hesitation, shifting his fingers to dig into the hunters hips, moving them rhythmically with the motion of his lips until Bobby was unable to control himself any longer, finally allowing himself to be swept up into the wave, the swell and surge and release that tore obscenities from him.

As he lay panting against the table the demon stood up, making a show of licking his lips. It was nothing short of obscene but it made his heart flutter all the same. Gods it was sexy. He was raising his hand to whisk himself away when Bobby caught hold of him again, heavy lidded eyes catching his own.

“I said I gotcha... weren’t you listenin’ you idjit?”

With that he pulled Crowley in towards him again, holding him close and sliding his free hand into the suit pants, finding hardness and stickiness waiting for him. The look on the demons face was priceless, it was the most shocked he’d ever seen him. So used to being in control, always calling the shots. Well now it was time to turn the tables… and he seemed to realise this, relaxing and releasing a trembling sigh.

Bobby’s motions were slightly clumsy and fumbling at first, and Crowley found himself snaking a hand down to set the rhythm and the strength of grip, holding the man’s hand so that they moved in unison. They worked together until he was moaning and weak against the larger man, letting him take the reins. It shouldn’t be this easy to win him over, to take control.

“This wasn’t part of the deal Singer.” He hissed, lips hovering next to Bobby’s ear, breathing hard.

“Oh? Yer sure about that are yer?” he replied as his hand quickened pace, drawing whimpers from the demon that were an extremely unexpected but pleasant surprise to the ear.

Crowley could feel himself beginning to fall over the edge and down into blinding light and ecstasy and nothingness. How ironic that the ‘sin’ the righteous were so obsessed with avoiding could feel so blissful… but then it had to have its selling points, otherwise who would go in for it? He could hear the hunters name falling from his own lips as he came, deep and guttural. Bobby held him securely upright as he gradually slowed his strokes and gently removed his hand.

 

 

 

*******

 

Bobby marvelled at how quickly Crowley regained his composure, although he supposed it was one of the unspoken perks of the trade. It seemed that in next to no time he had replaced his suit, which was somehow perfectly unruffled. He decided not to ask too much about how that was possible.

Clearing his throat he reached out a hand for the demon, "so about the deal."

Crowley turned to look at him, a mask of mock innocence on his face. Then he laughed and shook his head.

"Just because you took the test drive, doesn't mean you get the wheels."

"I'll be damned!" Bobby was looking at him with pure disbelief.

"Yes, you will. With me in fact, won’t that be fun?"

Bobby took a step towards him, watching him turn to leave and helpless to stop him.

“You’re mine Singer.”

"You ain't gettin' away from me that easy you slimy git. I'll be callin' you again, I'll keep callin'!"

He could see a sly smile wind its way across Crowley's face as he turned to cast one last gaze at the hunter.

"Promise?"

 

 


End file.
